Grape Jelly
by poncholover
Summary: Something about the idea of eating grape jelly for dinner with no spoon struck her as hilarious.


Beth wiped her brow. They had been tromping around in the woods all day, scouting the area and hunting. The hunting had been unsuccessful, a wandering walker in the woods had scared away the scarce live food supply. They weren't terribly upset, there was still plenty back at the funeral home for now. It had been four days since they first found the place. The shelter had been like a godsend, and they were in no hurry to leave the haven.

Beth limped up the porch after Daryl, her ankle aching. He pushed open the front door slowly, crossbow at the ready. He sniffed at the air for any hint of decay, eyes closed before nodding and ushering Beth in.

"If you keep clompin' around like that, you're gonna attract every walker in the area." Daryl boarded up the door after them.

"Sorry." She muttered, heading to the kitchen.

Beth tried to hide how much each step hurt. The last thing she wanted was to become a burden, a liability. She liked being useful, having a task to do. It kept her mind occupied, which was good. It hurt too much to think of what could have happened to the others. She had to believe they were okay, they were surviving like she and Daryl were. If she didn't believe, then who would?

Daryl stepped into the kitchen, dropping his crossbow on the table. She masked her annoyance, it was just a habit from back in the day when weapons on tables like that mattered.

"You okay? Your ankle, I mean." He cleared his throat.

"It's fine." Beth said, bustling around with meaningless tasks to keep her hands moving.

He sighed, pulling out the nearest chair and leading Beth to it against her protests.

"Daryl, I said it's fine. There's work to do." She stood from the chair.

"I got it. There ain't that much to do anyway. Besides, you need rest for that to heal. It'll only slow us down." He pushed her back down gently, and she let him. "Here, eat this."

Daryl handed her a jar of grape jelly. She felt her lips curve up at the gesture.

"Spoon?" Beth asked, watching as he boarded up the rest of the windows as the sun began to set.

"Don't need one." He replied.

Something about the idea of eating grape jelly for dinner with no spoon struck her as hilarious. Her giggles came in waves until tears ran from her eyes. Daryl turned from the window to stare at her with a bemused expression. Beth clutched her stomach with one hand, the jar in the other. She fought to catch her breath as the giggles subsided.

"What's so damn funny?" He scowled.

"I don't – I don't know. It's just grape jelly with no spoon." She managed between another fit of laughter.

Daryl crossed his arms, fighting a smile at the girl. Beth sighed, swiping her sleeve over her cheeks.

"Here." She said, kicking the other chair out from under the table with her good leg.

Daryl grabbed the jar of pig's feet and took her invitation at the table. He cracked open the jar, and they ate in silence.

"When'd you find you liked those?" Beth said, licking her fingers.

"It was the only thing in the cupboard growing up." He shrugged.

"When I was little, Maggie would always make peanut butter and jelly for lunch. Grape was always her favorite. I swear she had more jelly on there than the bread was thick." She added, the atmosphere shifting from the easy playfulness moments earlier. "Daryl?"

"Hmm?" He swallowed what he was chewing.

"There had to be more than us that escaped the prison."

"Just because they're out there wanderin' around don't mean they're alive." Daryl tensed, hastily screwing the lid on the jar.

"How can you say that? We can't be the only ones that are still alive, there have to be others out there." Beth's voice rose.

"Even if they are out there and maybe, just maybe they're alive, it won't stay that way." He slammed the jar on the table, the juice sloshing around inside.

He seemed to instantly regret his words, rubbing his forehead with unnecessary force. The jelly that seemed like a good idea not so long ago, churned uncomfortably in her stomach. Beth used the table for support as she stood.

"Daryl?" Her voice was quiet.

"What?" He snapped, glaring up at her.

"It's not your fault." She offered him a small smile.

Daryl's expression softened slightly. The guilt from his survival was plaguing him endlessly, and somehow, she could see right through him.

"Well, I'm going to sleep. Goodnight." She bent down and kissed his cheek, the beginnings of a beard scratching her lips.

She didn't have to look at him to see his surprise. Beth hobbled down the hall to her makeshift bed, a hand at her mouth in shock of what she just did.

"Beth?" Daryl called.

She paused.

"Night."


End file.
